Hikaru no Shampoo
by EKBlack
Summary: Yet another parody! The gripping tale of a young boy's quest for the Coiff of God, as asssisted by artiste extraordinaire, Fujiwara no Sai! PG 13 for minor language and some references. Review and help feed a muse.
1. Session 1

****

Hikaru no Shampoo

-A Hikaru no Go Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: Hikaru no Go doesn't belong to me. A certain name-brand shampoo's famous (infamous?) ad campaign also doesn't belong to me. In fact, even the idea of this fic doesn't belong to me (thanks to dear Morgie-porgie~ XD)...so I'm just a sad, sad person with no life! Enjoy the madness.

*

It was another perfectly ordinary day in an anonymous suburb of Tokyo. Shindou Hikaru, perfectly ordinary sixth-grader, was bored and whiny. "This is so stupid!" He leaned against a wall of the attic and sighed; with the intake of breath he choked on some dust and gave a huge sneeze, whereupon a pefect avalanche of dust bunnies fell on him. Akari giggled. Hikaru made annoyed noises and inhaled more dust, causing more sneezes and more deluges of dust until he'd cleaned one corner of his grandfather's attic as thoroughly as if he'd just swept it. He sat in the sea of gray fluff and sighed again. "Great. I just took a bath yesterday and washed my uniform." He brushed at his hair, where the bulk of the dust had accumulated. 

"Why don't you just go take another one?" Akari was still laughing. "You definitely need one."

"Aww...it's so much trouble...and it'll take forever..." Hikaru rolled his eyes. 

"Well--" Akari began, stepping toward Hikaru's dust puddle, and stumbled. "What is _this_ ?" She picked up a strangely shaped glass bottle, miraculously unbroken despite her tripping over it. 

"Lemme see," said Hikaru, reaching out a hand. He held the bottle up to the light from the window and peered at it. "The glass is too dark, I can't see anything." He attempted to uncap the bottle, grunting with the effort and shedding dust particles all over, to no avail. "Stupid thing," he said, huffily tossing the bottle aside and getting up, "I'm going to take a bath now. Hmph." Akari had already turned to go back downstairs. 

Suddenly, Hikaru heard a voice. A rather hollow-sounding voice. It had a slight and elegant accent from some European country."Hello? Young man?"

"..." Said Hikaru. "Akari? Stop that!"

Akari poked her head back up to stare at him from the ladder. "Stop what?"

"Aww, don't pretend--" 

"You can hear me? Young man? Can you hear me?" Hikaru stopped, mid-sentence, and swallowed. "Gr-grandpa? That you? Stop it right now!" 

Akari groaned. "Don't be silly, Hikaru. Go take your bath." She finished descending the ladder.

Hikaru ignored her. "Grandpa?!"

The voice sounded highly offended. "'Grandpa'?! How rude of you to refer to me as such!" And then the bottle began to quiver. With a great rattle, the cap flew off the brown-glass neck and a lovely fragrance seeped forth into the musty attic. Along with the scent came a man dressed in a expensive white designer outfit consisting of a fluff-collared turtleneck angora sweater with white suede pants and what appeared to be white go-go boots. Well, at least he _seemed_ to be a man. Hikaru screeched. The man jumped. He was perfectly made-up, replete with exquisite purple lipstick. Hikaru's legs went weak. What _was_ this...thing? 

"I happen to be Fujiwara no Sai, coiffure artist _extraordinaire_!" The...man danced around the room, his record-length purple hair gleaming madly. "I have been allowed to return to the mortal coil! Ah, such a wonderful feeling!" He stopped dancing and looked down at Hikaru, who had collapsed in a dusty pile. "Oh heavens! Oh my!" Fujiwara no Sai bent and inspected the unconscious boy. He reached out a tentative finger and rubbed Hikaru's hair. "OH MY!" He shook his finger, face flushing. "What IS this? This is horrible! Disastrous!" He covered his face with both hands and wailed. "The most disgusting, dirty, _nasty _hair I have _ever _seen! How CAN he live with this terror?" Sai struck another pose, as though he were falling into a faint, and then assumed a heroic stance, brandishing two combs of different sizes, three brushes, and a huge "professional use" squeeze tube of super-ultra-mega-cleansing shampoo. "To work!"

*

"Mmffn?"

Hikaru opened his right eye. It was very bright, so he couldn't be in the attic anymore...he opened his other eye and sat up. Or tried to, because he screeched and fell out of bed when he saw the coiffure artist _extraordinaire_ staring intently at him 3 inches from the tip of his nose. "Who the hell are you? What the--" Hikaru untangled himself from the bedclothes, to faciliate his speedy escape, and realized that he was now 1)very naked and 2)literally squeaky clean 3)in an unfamiliar room. He felt as though he would faint again. He closed his eyes and repeated to himself, calmly and rationally, that when he opened them there would just be his room, nice and messy with his shirts and manga all over the place. _Okay_. He opened his eyes. "AAAAAAAGH!"

"Well," said the strange man (?) in white, "I don't see why you need to be so very melodramatic. You ought to thank me." He nodded encouragingly. 

"Th--what?! Who the hell _are_ you?!" Hikaru felt like the protagonist of an F-grade horror film. "What are you doing in my room?! What the hell _happened_?!"

The man sighed a little. Patronizingly, he explained, "You're definitely anemic, dear boy. You fainted. I saw the awful--" here Sai shuddered--"condition your hair was in, and cleaned it up. A very nice old man, your grandfather I assume, called the ambulance and took you to the hospital. "

"So...this is the hospital?" Hikaru had gotten to his feet and was trying to secure a sheet around his waist. "And...who are you?"

"MUST I repeat myself _again_? I am Fujiwara no Sai, coiffure artist _extraordinaire_!"

Hikaru stared. 

"And," said Sai, a little less confidently, "it seems that I have once more manifested myself as a ghost. So only you can see me." He smiled sweetly. 

"..." Said Hikaru.

"Oh yes, here." Sai drifted down to Hikaru's eye level and handed him a small mirror. Hikaru looked, unreasonably afraid that it would suck up his soul or do something equally horrible, and dropped it promptly. Sai caught it, glaring at Hikaru all the while, and protectively put it back into where-ever he kept his accoutrements. 

"What did you DO to my HAIR?!" Hikaru clutched at his hair, trying to undo the damage, but it was far, far too late. Sai glared some more. "Well, _I_ thought it would fit you well, and it does." 

Shindou Hikaru, sixth grade, had a beautiful Lord Fauntleroy fall of soft curls over his ears and onto his shoulders. 

-end Session One-

Notes: 

In case you didn't know what a Lord Fauntleroy coiff looks like, it's sort of a Victorian little-boys' cut with big curls all over the place, preferably of a golden color. The mothers of aforementioned boys loved the look but the boys, of course, felt rather differently.

Sai fans: fear not, I lurve Sai to death. ~_~ No insult intended.


	2. Session 2

****

Hikaru no Shampoo

Session Two

-A Hikaru no Go Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: Hikaru no Go doesn't belong to me. A certain name-brand shampoo's famous (infamous?) ad campaign also doesn't belong to me. In fact, even the idea of this fic doesn't belong to me (thanks to dear Morgie-porgie~ XD)...so I'm just a sad, sad person with no life! Enjoy the madness.

*

"You ignorant child! How can you even resist the sheer magnetism?!" Fujiwara no Sai was angry; as he strode after Hikaru, his beautiful and excessively glossy hair waving menancingly in an unseen breeze. The motion displayed to perfection the luster of each silky, luxurious strand to the passerby, who, unfortunately, saw nothing but a short boy in a grade-school uniform and a very large black cowboy hat trudging along the sidewalk.

Said hat was being held down with both hands by the boy, who was glaring at something behind and above him. "Shut up, you."

"What?!" Sai pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the shop window that had started the fuss. "Hikaru! _Look_ at that boy's hair!" Hikaru sighed, stamped back toward the display window. Inside were a row of stacked televisions, the latest model, and on each set of cathode-ray-tubes was the face of a boy who was turning in slow motion, his generous head of hair swishing and swaying every which way. Light jazz played in the background, accentuated with whispery vocals. Sai goggled unabashedly, jaw ajar. Hikaru made an exasperated "pfft". 

"Isn't it lovely?" Sai pressed his nose against the glass, bent nearly double to see the wonderful hypnotic hair more clearly. "What I'd do to have that hair in my hands..." The boy onscreen turned and smiled at the audience, winked. Hikaru was blinded by the amount of light that was reflected from the green-black hair. It was like staring at a panel of sheet metal or a mirror; it blinded. But Sai was still hunched over, gaping at the model as he faded to black. Hikaru kept his grip on the cowboy hat that covered the shameful head of curls and started to move away. "Hikaru!" 

"Whaaaat?" Several pedestrians turned to peer curiously at the boy with the huge hat who apparently also had severe schizophrenia.

"Hikaru," Sai was calm, trying to be patient and persuasive. "Why don't you take off that horrid hat? Why don't you show off that wondrous creation?"

"_Your_ 'wondrous creation', bah!" Hikaru gritted his teeth. "I still can't believe you did that to me. How did I ever wrong you? How did I ever hurt you? HOW DID I EVER MESS WITH YOUR _HAIR_?!" More than a few eager bystanders had gathered by now; almost all either 1)fresh from the countryside, 2)under the age of 12, or 3)tourists. After all, psychotic displays weren't _that_ uncommon in such a great city. Hikaru failed to notice them. "Well? Whaddya have to say for yourself?!"

Sai closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten, or tried to. By "seven" he could no longer contain his rage. "First, _you_ were the one who'd fainted, so it wasn't my fault at all--"

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine to go around _taking over people's bodies_, huh?!" Some American tourists had gathered and were taking photos of Hikaru, red-faced and shouting at the air. "Is ceremony?" Said one to a matronly woman, who _shh_ed them. Hikaru was still yelling. "And you still have the...the guts to--"

"Second," continued the artist _extraordinaire_ without a pause, lifting both finely sculpted eyebrows, "you were in a dreadful rut with that dye-and-trim business before...and did I mention the dust? Oh horrors, the _dust_!" He tried to hold it in, but suddenly the ghostly stylist began to sob uncontrollably. "The dust...it was so horrible..." Hikaru _hmph_ed and began once more to walk away, but before he could get out of the mass of onlooking tourists and country bumpkins, he was overcome by a tidal wave of nausea and, losing his hold on the brim of the cowboy hat, dropped to his knees and retched. Sai was still weeping but looked decidedly happier in a evil, vengeful-ghost sort of way. He would like being a poltergeist. He would like it very much.

*

"Uggh...kyaa!" Hikaru sat up, screaming, his head running through Sai's left go-go boot. He looked up. "What the hell are you doing up there?" This had to be bad for something, waking up every day to a ghost floating above your head.

Sai looked very important (or rather, more important than usual). "I have made a decision."

"To go back into that stupid bottle, right?"

Sai ignored him. "We will beat that boy from the window!"

"..." Hikaru stared. "The model for the shampoo ad?"

"Yes, that boy." Sai practically sparkled with delight. "You will do far, far better than he, dear Hikaru~" He suddenly became serious, whispered. "You will be the first...to reach the CoiffofGod."

"The...the what?"

"TheCoiffofGod." Sai looked over both shoulders; and into the corners of the room before explicating. "The Coiff of God." His eyes glittered. "The dream of my life! The ultimate goal of _artistes_ everywhere! That boy in the windows...he is the closest I have ever seen to the Coiff." Sai trailed off into blissful recollection of the shampoo advertisement. 

"..." Hikaru clenched his jaw. He had given up on the hat after the nausea incident and had tried to cut off the curls to a more reasonable length, but Sai had threatened to start crying again, and Hikaru felt in no condition to vomit what was left in his stomach from the incident in the street. And then it came to him. If only he could persuade Sai to make his hair like the boy in the television commercial, then it might not be so bad. At least the model didn't have curls. Hikaru was sure that the model wouldn't have to don protective head covering when _he_ went out. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. 

"Of _course_ it wouldn't be 'so bad'," Sai interjected, and Hikaru glared. He'd forgotten about the ghost's presence in his head and the associated ability to listen in on all of his thoughts. "Get out of my head, you!" 

Sai looked uncharacteristically saddened. "I wish I could." His shoulders slumped under the fluffy angora sweater. "I wish I could." He sighed and drifted to the window, looking out onto another morning, another day. Hikaru was starting to feel a bit sorry for the poor ghost. After all, it had to be pretty bad spending enternity in such a ridiculously uncomfortable pair of shoes. "Um, Sai?" 

"Hm?"

"I...I..." Sai was beginning to turn around, and Hikaru's gut sank as he realized what he was about to agree to. "I guess...you can try it with my hair. The cuff thing."

"The _Coiff_ thing," retorted Sai, but he had regained his frighteningly sparkly demeanor. "Oh Hikaru, this is wonderful! Thank you!" The ghost latched himself around Hikaru's neck, and the poor boy lurched. "I feel so appreciated again!"

__

Oh no, thought Hikaru miserably as Sai struck a pose with his hands full of assorted styling implements (including a very large, very frightening-looking metal object of a bizarre shape), _so much for friends._ He could envision the horrible stares from the entire street after Sai got through with his hair. _Oooooh nooooo..._

-end Session Two-

Notes:

Was going to talk about Sai's past this Session but didn't quite get to it. Alas, wordiness, my curse. Next Session: a different look for Hika-chan? Sai's past? And...best of all, a rival? XDD


	3. Session 3

****

Hikaru no Shampoo

Session Three

-A Hikaru no Go Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: Hikaru no Go doesn't belong to me. A certain name-brand shampoo's famous (infamous?) ad campaign also doesn't belong to me. In fact, even the idea of this fic doesn't belong to me (thanks to dear Morgie-porgie~ XD)...so I'm just a sad, sad person with no life! Enjoy the madness.

*

Shindou Hikaru had been a rather ordinary Japanese schoochild, in terms of spiritual faith and devotion; he had taken part in the popular Shinto festivals, was familiar with Buddhists and monasteries; likewise, he had a pretty clear idea about Christianity. Occasionally he invoked deities in conversation, for emphasis. But he'd never prayed as wholeheartedly as he prayed now. Never had such a wide audience of gods and spiritual leaders been prayed to in one go.

"Buddha, God, Kami-sama, Confucius, Shiva, Allah..." Hikaru was mentally ticking them off on his fingers as he went. "...Please, please, please...don't let this crazed ghost do anything bad to my hair..." He considered, licked his panic-dried lips, and rephrased, "Anything..._too_ bad..." 

Above his head, his hands were whirling away with scissors of all sorts, a razor, combs...Sai had taken over his arms from the elbows down, and Hikaru felt like one of those scary amputees he had sometimes seen in photo books on victims of land mines in third-world countries. He began to pray again, keeping his eyes firmly shut. He could feel the heavy layers of curls on his shoulders go away, but motions and sensations elsewhere were rather less welcome. At one point, Sai used Hikaru's left index finger to tap the boy's head. "Hikaru."

"What?" Hikaru had been in the middle of reciting his prayer, and was rather unhappily interrupted. He felt like he had just eaten a giant block of ice, which was now sinking rapidly toward his belly-button. "What?"

"Open your eyes. Tilt your head to the left." Sai pushed on Hikaru's head. "There now, open your eyes. It's not so bad, really."

Hikaru opened one eye a tiny crack. He shrieked. 

Sai, flustered, hovered above him. His hands were cocked above his head, grasping various gleaming instruments of hair abuse. And instead of a Lord Fauntleroy, Shindou Hikaru now had a glossy bowl-cut that reached his chin. With bangs. 

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...!" Hikaru forsook his former religious correctness and ran in tiny circles around the bathroom, dropping stray bits of hair clippings as he went. Sai was still in his hands; the rest of the ghost was being pulled along, looking as though someone had insulted his own hair. "Ohmygooooood..." Hikaru halted abruptly at the mirror once more, took a glance at himself, and turned to Sai. "What have you_ done _to my hair?!"

"...You said you would prefer the model's haircut." Sai pouted. "And this was his haircut. Isn't it lovely? Look how it shines--"

"I don't CARE!" Hikaru wailed, trying to rid his hands of the styling tools, but Sai clutched them as if they were made of platinum. "This is HORRIBLE!" 

"But you said so yourself!"

"Since when do you listen to _me_?" Hikaru shook with indignation. "And GET OUT of my body!" Sai looked shocked. "But..." tears began to form in his eyes. "But Hikaru..." 

__

Uh-oh, Hikaru thought as an all-too-familiar ripple of nausea rolled over him. "Er, Sai. Er...I meant, it really isn't...Sai...sorry..."

Sai sighed and exorcised himself from Hikaru's arms. He stuck one slim hand into a hidden pocket somewhere and extracted a very lacy, very silky, and very pink piece of cloth and began to dabble at his face with it. Hikaru stared. Sai realized something and looked more carefully at the cloth, blushed furiously, and tried to stuff it away. 

"What was _that_?" Sai had now shoved the piece of cloth messily up his sleeve. A large lump protruded from his forearm. "Er...nothing!" Sai flew about haphazardly, keeping his face averted from Hikaru's. 

"_Sai_. What _was_ _that_?"

Sai turned slowly, a quivery smile on his face. Hikaru looked so _cute_ with his shiny new hair! And his annoyance helped the overall effect greatly. Sai sparkled. He was in a stream, a river, a deluge of bliss. He'd not felt so wonderful and warm since...he remembered the embarassing piece of cloth he still had lumped in his sleeve and blushed. Maybe if he turned away, and just barely poked the cloth up into his fluffy collar, he could hide it..."_Sai_! What're you doing?" 

"Um." Sai coughed delicately. It seemed that he would not be able to hide it from Hikaru any longer. "Well...um. Hikaru, I think you should get comfortable."

"I'm fine where I am." Hikaru snapped, perching himself on the sink counter. "Well?"

"Well..." Sai sighed deeply and pulled out the piece of pink cloth. It was a tiny slip of cloth, a triangle with two thin straps. Hikaru goggled. "I had this on me when I died," said Sai, "when I fell into that stupid pool.

"I was a successful _artiste_, with a nice flat and people everywhere simply _demanding_ that I treat their hair." Sai paused to give Hikaru a meaningful look. "Day and night, I received _pleas_ to rescue horrid hair and to _consult_ famous performers. Oh, such good times..." Sai beamed and closed his eyes. "My wonderful tools, always _polished_ and _gorgeous_...all the conditioner anyone could want...

"And then I met _him_. It was at a huge dinner party, the kind with the fancy hor d'oeuvres made with Russian caviar. I had been having a _lovely_ time, drinking the French champagne and meeting all the people who were just _mad_ about their hair after I'd treated it. 

"I was laughing with several of the most _beautiful_ people in the city, every one of them with wonderful shining hair, every one of them as _unbelivably_ gorgeous as they were supposed to be. Then there was one who went to find a friend to introduce to me. The 'friend' had an _awful_ haircut, _ugly_ and..._ugh_. It still gives me chills just to think of his hair. 'This is so-and-so,' said the woman, and the man with _terrible_ hair and I shook hands. I knew I would not like him, because he smelled like an _artiste_, the shampoo and all, but I _knew_--_know_ that he was _nothing_ of the sort."

Sai stopped, and Hikaru absorbed the story in silence. "Um, Sai...what does this have to do with the underwear?" 

"Hmph." Sai turned away so that the boy could not see him blush. _Underwear_! "I'm getting to it. Have _patience_, for heaven's sake." 

*

The man had ridiculously blond hair, obviously dyed. And worse, he had his bangs waved so they looked like undercooked instant ramen. He wore cheap black PVC and pretended it was leather. He had drunk four glasses of champagne and consumed seventeen caviar rolls, four finger sandwiches, and a large piece of Bavarian cream cake. He still had a good deal of crumbs all around his ugly lipless mouth. "So you're the great _Sai_," said the ugly man. "Y'know, I'm a hairdresser myself."

Sai was revolted. "Hairdresser" was for minimum-wage people who held scissors incorrectly and who wore aprons at work. "I am Fujiwara no Sai, yes." Maybe the stupid man would get the idea and move off. But of course he didn't. 

"So, how long have you been in the business? I've been at it for four years, myself. Done a lot of work, heh..." he nudged the starlet who had introduced him, and she giggled obligingly. "It's pretty nice here, huh?"

"Indeed." Sai tried to scoot away. 

"Aw, hey, I've got an idea. Let's have a little demonstration right here, hey?" The man guffawed and gestured at the general mass of people around him. "Get some business."

Sai almost said _no_, but when the man turned, he caught the hint of uncertainty in the ugly tanned face. _That's right, let me show you "hairdressing". _ "All right."

*

"It all went downhill from there. The guests loved the idea and gave us each a pair of scissors, a bottle of shampoo, and some leave-in conditioner. Two young press darlings volunteered to serve as models. We had an hour to finish one _coiff_ and then the party at large would decide the winner.

"Of course, mine was _far_ superior. It was a neat little page boy, and suited my subject's round face perfectly. The blond man was sweating by the end of the first quarter-hour. He was losing from the very start, and knew it. The clumsy cuts on that _poor_ girl's head looked as though she had very recently collided with a pair of dull hedge clippers. The man dumped a mound of conditioner onto her head in an attempt to resucitate the poor hair. I decided to touch up a bit in the same way and located the bottle of conditioner and had just squirted a bit into my palm when I realized that _it was not conditioner_.

"Somehow, I had a bottle full of hair remover instead of Floral Essence conditioner."

-end Session Three-

Notes:

Have been enormously, enormously busy.(--really! ) This chapter is horribly fragmented, but at least gets the point across. Just envision Hikaru with the infamous bowl-cut. *snerk* Next session: the end of the tragic tale, the pool, and the lingerie. Will arrive hot and steaming on ff.net at some point in the future. Thank you much for the feedback, it is greatly appreciated.


End file.
